I remember as a kid being bored to death on long drives.  So my brothers and I would seek to remedy that with counting contests. To get a point you had to be the first to spot the agreed-on target and call it out: out-of-state plates, Studebakers, Jersey cows, Oliver tractors, and so forth.  You could win a round instantly, however, if you spotted what we chose to be the trumping item.  For a number of trips, it was a farmyard grindstone—which you now see mostly in antique shops.

[Jersey cow]

Well, what was a long drive back in the forties and fifties, is no longer a long drive.  Having just gotten back from covering 2000 miles in a week, alone, I know the potential for boredom well.  But seldom was I bored.  This is in large part due to two things: audio books and my interest in the natural world.

1950 Studebaker

Of the books, the most captivating—and long—was C. S. Lewis’ That Hideous Strength, the third in his science fiction trilogy (Out of the Silent Planet and Perelandra being the others).  I was amazed at how a book published in 1943 grows eerily more relevant with each new decade.

Cirrus clouds

Interest in God’s creation by itself is usually enough to keep me from highway boredom, but learning how to let it captivate me while racing through the landscape at 70 mph takes deliberation on my part.  I’ve set myself some goals: Learn how to recognize tree species by their shape, color, mature size, and foliage pattern; learn how to recognize birds by how they fly, by their silhouette, and by their habits and habitats; learn how to recognize wildflowers by their color en mass , height, and typical habitat; learn the names and natures of the different cloud forms and what they might be telling me about the weather; learn the typical farm crops of a region and what a field of each looks like in all stages of growth from sprout to harvest; learn the different species of cattle, horses, and other farm animals (a skill I’m a long way from mastering!); learn invasive plants by their form, color, and habitat; and, critical in a state that typically has more than 60,000 car/deer collisions each year, learn where deer might be seen—especially in the few hours around dusk when they’re moving from grazing to bedding down.

With all those objectives on my mind, every drive turns into an adventure—so much of an adventure that when I trip with Marge, she’ll do the driving (“For the safety of both of us,” she’ll say).  She knows driver types, traffic patterns, and potential road hazards like the back of her hand.  To her, a Hummer is a vehicle (one she’d like to have as the closest thing to the iron car she’s always felt she needed).  To me it’s the bird I’ve been trying to entice to my feeders. This, of course, makes for interesting road conversation.  If you had a recording of our in-car commentary, you’d think we were in different worlds.  But, in the end, you’d understand that it’s the perfect combination—one that’s been in existence for forty-three years!  The result in number of highway crashes?  Zero!

See you outdoors!

Dean

Reading Bill Bryson’s A Walk in the Woods was a great pleasure.  Perhaps no more entertaining book has been written on the pleasure—and mostly pain—of hiking the Appalachian Trail.  One thing it did do for me for sure was to dash my dream of actually doing it.  That and the fact that I have to sleep plugged in (my sleep apnea machine).

[Made it to the trail marker!]

I’ve done a few backpacking trips in my life, though—one of them to a remote beach on the Pt. Reyes Peninsula in Northern California that rewarded me with an amazing show of whale surf-rolling and sky-hopping.  It also rewarded me with a dew-fall  that soaked my sleeping bag and me just about as thoroughly as sleeping tentless in the rain.

On another hike, in the fuzziness of early awakening in a dim tent, I accidentally grabbed my ambien and vicodin medicine container instead of my morning vitamin container, and ended up having the most euphoric and painless hike of my life.  There’s not a whole lot I remember about it.  My hiking companions told me I was a real trooper.

Then there’s that wonderful sport called orienteering—a real hike producer.  I tried that a couple times too.  But being with a bunch of two-man teams trampling the wildflowers, cussing at brambles (Christianly—it being a church thing), and in general terrorizing everything in the woods to get from one flag to the next also did not do it for me.  When you don’t take time to identify poison ivy, for instance, you don’t just scratch your head trying to read your compass, you end up a couple days later scratching every part of your body.

Yes, I do like hiking, but to be honest I don’t hike to actually go from trailhead A to trailtail B.  I go for the journey, not the destination.  Actually I sort of saunter through the wild.  Nibble a sassafras leaf or two.  Breathe in the fragrance of hot pine needles. Listen for the haunting song of the wood thrush.  Tip over a downed log to search for spotted salamanders.  Try to get a rise out of a barred owl by hooting “who cooks for you; who cooks for you-hoo.”  Stop to identify the wildflowers (and the poison ivy).  Photograph unfamiliar tree leaves and plants to “key out” when I get home.  (Keying out is especially helpful when you want to collect mushrooms to eat: one euphoric hike is probably enough!)

That’s my speed.  So that’s why I mostly hike alone.  Maybe one day, though, I might meet you on the trail, meandering as I do, or truckin’ on through to point B.  I’ll be the codger on my knees off the trail trying to get a good picture of ground pine, fern fiddleheads, hepatica, or jack in his pulpit.

See you outdoors!

Dean

Sunday I put up two hummingbird feeders—motivated by the discovery that hummingbirds were visiting the patch of catmint in the center of the cul-de-sac in front of our condo.  We don’t see them often around our place, which, because of the abundance of shade, is devoid of flowers.  And, frankly, Michigan is not the hummingbird capital of the world.  East of the Mississippi, there is only one type: the ruby throat.

When we lived in Southern California several years ago, we were spoiled: we’d typically draw six different species to our feeders: Anna’s, Allen’s, Costa’s, Rufous, Calliope, and Black-chinned.  And they were royal entertainment.

In order to be generous, we hung two feeders on the opposite sides of a long patio overhang.  That’s when we discovered the ungenerous nature of these delicate creatures: they don’t like to share if they can help it.  I guess it’s in the genes that when hummers discover a source of food, they stake their claim to it and then spend hours every day chasing away other birds—even, or maybe especially, “birds of a feather.”  Some tried to claim both feeders and raced back and forth each chasing off the “owner” of the other.  We would spend much leisure time watching these wars—often commenting that they would not have to take in so much nectar if they learned to live at peace with each other.

I was surprised one day when I was taking down a feeder to refill it.  One of the brazen little birds came and hovered up to within six inches of my nose, seeming to say “take your hands off my food, buster!”  I could have easily snuffed out its proud little life but instead laughed at its audacity.

Then I realized how much this was like people getting into the face of God, angry at being deprived of that they consider theirs—not seeming to have a clue that without God they would have nothing.  That the bird didn’t understand that a temporary loss would ultimately be gain was also like people and God.  Isn’t it a wonder also that God tolerates our pride and audacity?

Our heavenly Father often takes things away from us in order to give us more—or perhaps end a dependency that’s ultimately harmful for us.  Maybe it’s His way of moving us on to some other area of service.  One thing is sure: we can trust our loving Father to do what is right, even if we don’t understand the way He takes.  It is good to be reminded of this by reading again the words of the prophet Isaiah:

Isaiah 55:6-11. Seek the Lord while He may be found, call upon Him while He is near; let the wicked forsake their way, and the unrighteous their thoughts; let them return to the Lord, that He may have mercy on them, and to our God, for He will abundantly pardon. For My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways My ways, says the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways and My thoughts than your thoughts.”

See you outdoors!

Dean

My friend Bob Barr works for the Au Sable Institute for Environmental Studies near Mancelona, Michigan.  He often tells a personal story to show how, like many characters in the Bible, a sojourn in the wilderness can bring about spiritual healing.  Here is his story:

He had returned from his tour of duty in Vietnam healthy in body, but he was wounded emotionally and spiritually. Although he was a follower of Christ, he felt estranged from his Creator and confused about what God was doing in his life—indeed, what God was doing in and with the world. He was angry and frustrated with God. Hoping to at least get relief from dwelling on this inner turmoil, he joined a group of friends on a backpacking trip into the mountains of Colorado.

While the excitement and toil of the trek distracted him temporarily from his spiritual struggle, the restlessness in his soul kept breaking through into his consciousness—compelling him one evening to go off alone into the alpine tundra that surrounded their campsite high above the tree line. Bob tells the story:

I remember walking away from the camp one evening and looking across a narrow valley. We were at 11,500 feet, camped at the foot of a sheer rock face that went up to 13,800 feet. The sun was beginning to set-filling the sky and landscape with spectacular colors-and I was struck by God’s power and the majesty of the world that He had created. Then my eyes were drawn down to my feet where tuffets of tundra grass were crowned with little flowers. On the side of one tuft was a little opening, and a small bird was nesting there- surrounded by beautiful white and blue wildflowers. As I bent down to look closer, the bird flew away leaving behind tiny eggs the size of jellybeans.

At once I was overwhelmed with God’s presence, thinking about His power and authority and majesty as the Creator of these mountains. He had created this vast vista, but He also cared to create beautiful little flowers and these tiny birds to live in this harsh environment. They were nesting there very comfortably—God caring for the small things in the midst of this awesome bigness.

His presence then was so real to me that I still get emotional thinking about it more than 30 years later. I felt His presence so strongly that I couldn’t stand up. I was forced to my knees. And if you can hear an audible voice of God, I heard that voice, and His words to me were, “Bob, I am with you. And everything is okay.”

In the quiet wonder of a mountain wilderness, Bob discovered the presence of One who long ago had said, “Be still, and know that I am God” (Ps. 46:10). A sojourn in the wilderness produced, once again, the profound spiritual healing that so many followers of Christ have experienced over the centuries.

If you have not had an opportunity yet this spring to wander off in solitude into the wild, why not determine to do just that.  Go with the prayer for God to speak to you and refresh or heal your soul.  Jesus took sojourns into the wilderness to commune with the Father.  I can’t think of a better Person to serve as my model, can you?

See you outdoors!

Dean

[Bob's story is found in the Discovery Series booklet "Celebrating the Wonder of Wilderness"]

My trip south last week was for the purpose of attending the inaugural conference of the new creation-care organization Flourish.  It was the best of such conferences I have yet attended.  One of the delights was that David Neff, editor of Christianity Today was also in attendance and has written a great report on it.  His reporting will continue today as well.  His blog on it should be up by this afternoon.  Be sure to read it.

Here is David Neff’s article:

Last week, evangelical creation care entered a new phase as key pastors, scientists, and thought leaders gathered near Atlanta for a “coming out party.” That’s what Jonathan Merritt called the gathering as he welcomed conferees to Flourish 09, hosted by Cross Pointe Church where Merritt serves on the staff with his father, senior pastor and former president of the Southern Baptist Convention James Merritt.

Like all debutantes, the leaders of Flourish were clearly self-conscious as they tried to forge a new identity in public for the first time. Flourish president and co-founder Rusty Pritchard was the first of many to declare, “I am not an environmentalist.” For Pritchard, a natural resources economist who founded the environmental studies program at Emory University, that label is loaded with overtones of judgmentalism and apocalypticism. We don’t need environmentalism for us to be perceived as judgmental, said Pritchard. If you want judgmentalism, “just come to my church.”

What emerged from Pritchard’s keynote talk was not a passion for the environment so much as a passion for people, their health and well-being, and particularly for social justice. If our abuse of the environment raises, for example, the rate of debilitating asthma attacks, then it is a compassion issue for the church.

It’s not about recycling and reusing, said Pritchard, it’s about clean water and clean air. It’s about social justice.

What Pritchard was keen to avoid–what Flourish is keen to avoid–is polarizing environmental rhetoric, rhetoric borrowed on the Right from Sean Hannity and on the Left from Al Gore. “Our engaging with environmental issues doesn’t need to start with politics,” said Pritchard. “That is the thesis of this conference. We have to start somewhere other than climate politics. There is nothing more divisive.”

And so the conference proceeded largely without a lot of attention to climate change politics and its attendant apocalypticism. The only exception was an illustrated lecture by National Wildlife Federation president Larry Schweiger, who let loose a fusillade of climate data, which likely overwhelmed rather than enlightened most in attendance.

Perhaps the biggest benefit of the conference was its line-up of pastors talking to pastors about how to promote environmental concern in their congregations without creating factions.

South Atlanta pastor Leroy Barber spoke of how his church worked to “green my ‘hood.” His parishioners live with all the unsightly and unsanitary things other Atlanta neighborhoods avoid: chemical plants, an auto impound lot from another municipality, a landfill, poor public transportation. He described his church’s efforts to improve the lives of their neighbors through economic development, health and nutrition programs, and even pedestrian safety campaigns. “That’s good news for the poor,” he said.

Orlando pastor Joel Hunter talked about how he has worked to weave creation care into the general discipleship experience of those he ministers to. Hunter admonished those present to attach everything they do to Scripture, to present facts rather than clever opinions, and to tell stories of environmental action that illustrate and invite Christians to demonstrate neighbor love.

Boise, Idaho, Vineyard pastor Tri Robinson positioned himself as a regular guy: a rancher and a hunter and an evangelical pastor, he says. He doesn’t wear Birkenstocks. If you’re going to succeed in getting people like me to engage with creation care, said Robinson, you’re going to have to do three things:

* show me it is biblical and right,
* show me why it is going to be good for my church,
* connect it to the kingdom of God
(Isaiah 61 via Jesus’ words in Luke 4:14ff).

Castle Rock, Colorado, pastor Rand Clark spoke about integrating creation care activities into church planting and evangelism.

Houston pastor Chris Seay promoted creation care as way to free ourselves from slavery to Mammon and materialism.

Host pastor James Merritt preached a model sermon setting forth the biblical case for creation care. It was Merritt’s first sermon ever on the topic, and he was laying the foundation not only for the preaching of other pastors but his own teaching ministry as well.

Evangelicals have often criticized the environmental movement for worshiping the creation rather than the Creator. At Flourish 09, there was not the slightest hint of nature mysticism. The dominant spiritual message was the need for neighbor love and the social justice activity neighbor love entails.

A number of social justice ministries were represented at the conference. The most popular booth belonged to Land of a Thousand Hills Coffee, with its slogan–”Drink Coffee. Do Good.”–and its endless urns of really good joe. The ministry helps Rwandan genocide survivors to form coffee-growing co-ops, then helps them speed their best beans to market where they command top prices. These co-op farmers typically increase their revenues by a factor of 4.5, exceeding the prices paid in fair-trade programs. Land of a Thousand Hills markets their product to and through churches.

Floresta told how its tree-planting efforts rehabilitate the soil and water sources that rural people need to live. (Watch for an upcoming Christianity Today article on Floresta’s work on the Haiti-Dominican Republic border.)

Pastor Tri Robinson put it bluntly: “Not caring about the creation is killing people.” The clear message of the conference: restoring creation restores life, restores people to health, and demonstrates Christian love.

See you outdoors!

Dean